


Divided we fall

by Panatlantic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panatlantic/pseuds/Panatlantic
Summary: In a world where Alphas make one mistake too many, Omegas have created a society of their own, but when the world is threatened is it wise to have your population divided? Alpha Tony Stark and Omega Steve Rogers will need to overcome biology and stereotypes to make it work.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

“Do not do this thing.” Said the Omega.

The Alpha did not listen. They would have this war.

“You cannot do this thing.” Warned the Omega.

The Alpha made weapons so powerful they could destroy entire cities.

“You must not do this thing.” Begged the Omega.

The Alpha dropped the bombs. Hundreds of thousands of civilians died.

Alphas were all about pride – and there was no greater pride than to have a compliant Omega and a litter of offspring, no greater shame than to lose that Omega.

But Alphas had become complacent. They did not listen when the Omega told them to stop. They went too far.

When it happened, it wasn’t even difficult. A bond wasn’t a life sentence. Omega chose to stay. They chose to bond and submit and allow their mate to serve them. It was never a matter of them being unable to do things for themselves; just there was no point. If a Beta had ever thought to ask them why they put up with the Alpha at all, they simply could not understand the question.

Omegas valued things differently to Betas and Alphas, so what was acceptable and even desirable in a mate was not always understood. If the Alpha wanted to wage wars and kill each other… that was acceptable. Expected even.

But.

This. This was not acceptable.

This was not desirable. 

They had killed civilians. All those innocent pups.

That was not to be tolerated.

So the Omega left. _All of them._ The Alpha were shattered. The war was over.

* * *

Tony Stark had never really knew his mother. Sometimes he could imagine he remembered her smiling or her scent, but that was probably a memory he’d created. He’d been far too young at the time, and probably seen photographs or smelt her scent on her personal effects rather than it being an actual memory. She’d died well before Howard’s weapons had been produced.

Maybe if she had survived Howard would have been a better person and not the wreck of a man that he became. Maybe if he’d had his omega she would have asked him to stop and he wouldn’t have made those weapons to begin with.

Maybe Tony would have had a better childhood without a half crazed, alcoholic father.

That was a lot of maybes.

Howard had eventually driven himself off a cliff one night and then Tony hadn’t even has that, just Stane and his outdated propaganda about alpha supremacy.

And Jarvis.

* * *

**September 2008**

The Omega compound in New York was one of the largest in the World and hosted approximately 20,000 Omega and their offspring, and was considered a city in its own right.

The compound, with its 20ft, heavily armored walls were a constant warning to Alphas. Omega do not forget. But everyone else did and it became the norm. Omega lived in the compound. A few chose to leave the compounds, found mates, had children. Most chose to never leave the compound, finding productive lives without ever bonding.

That was important of course, you couldn’t just take a proportion of the population and remove their primary purpose and hope for the best. So they had found new meanings. Arts had flourished initially, being a typical Omega pursuit, and medicine – the development of not just suppressants but pain management, antibiotics, vaccines, pharmaceuticals…. Omega had long been unsatisfied with medical developments. Infant mortality was unacceptable. Once that bugbear was successfully being dealt with, they turned their eyes to the things that improved their living standards – architecture, physics, materials, technologies…

And they were good at it. Some of the brightest minds in the world were behind that wall and it was that that drove Alpha Tony Stark to desperation. Well…. That and a shitload of booze.

Those Omega that ventured out were treated like gods. They were stunning, educated, smelt amazing… not to mention the sex, cause lets acknowledge it, when you were an eligible billionaire like Tony you had… so we shall say… opportunities to sample the goods. But those Omega were celebrities and socialites – not the intellectuals that remained behind the walls that really sparked Tony’s interest. 

Tony had been communicating with Omega Physicist Bruce Banner for a while now, he’d tried to get Bruce to join SI a couple of times but Bruce wasn’t interested. Not that Tony could blame Bruce for not wanting to leave the compound - Stark Industries barely held a light up to the technologies being developed within.

And Tony wanted in.

It wasn’t his fault he’d been born an Alpha so he really didn’t see why he couldn’t go in and play with all the cool toys.

So one day, he did.

One simply did not make a flying robotic suit and not think, _hey I could just fly over that big ass wall!_

It had not ended well, but Tony did become rather infamous amongst Alphas for the attempt. Lets take a step back.

* * *

**March 2008**

Ironman first met Captain Rogers when he was running cleanup on the Ten Rings. The Captain and his team had been there to liberate a half dozen Omega that were being held against their will, Tony had been there to destroy a stockpile of SI weapons. Their goals just happened to align.

Not all Alphas had been happy about losing their Omegas, and of course not all countries had basic human rights. The Avengers were a vigilante group that liberated those Omegas and took them back to a compound. There wasn’t a country in the UN that would argue their necessity, yet they were still outside of the law. That’s okay, so was Ironman.

What Tony hadn’t expected was what a sorry bunch of complete newbs they were. Well at first glance, they appeared to be a bunch of mostly Betas, lacking the size and musculature of Alphas. They wore full face helmets, light body armor and wielded… Tasers? Surprisingly they survived the encounter, not in small part due to Tony’s intervention and some remotely operated explosives.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Screamed Tony, flipping back the faceplate. Oopsie... Secret identity be damned! He was angry! “What were you planning to do? Ask them nicely to release the hostages? You don’t even have any decent weapons!” Naturally he had invited himself into their jet, which okay, had some decent tech going on at least. 

“Stop.” Commanded the leader, coming between Tony and one of the vigilantes. It wasn’t an Alpha command, but it was a command nonetheless. Guy sure had the muscles of an Alpha. “You’re scaring them.” He made a wide gesture at the half dozen Omega cowering in the bulkhead. “Close your helmet.”

Tony did so and watched the Omega visibly relax a moment later. Tony might have been raised in an Omega void by that paragon of parenting Howard, but he still knew that an angry Alpha full of adrenaline probably stank something fierce.

“Captain!” Berated one of the vigilantes as the Captain removed his own helmet. And hello! If that wasn’t some serious breech of the law of probabilities to have so much hot in one place.

“Shh. You’re safe now.” Murmured the Captain to the hostages, getting down to floor level and doing this... thing… with the pressing of the necks together and…. whatever it was it was working because they visibly calmed down. Howard always said there was no dealing with hysterical omega at all so there was some more sage advice to disregard.

“Are you in charge?” Demanded Tony. But was hushed again. “Did you think you were really gonna take them out with Tasers and tranq darts? These are the bad guys! They’ll kill you!

* * *

**May 2008**

“We have to stop meeting like this Cap.” Stated Ironman, firing repulsors into their attackers. And yes Tony may have planted a tracker in their jet, but he found he liked this rag-tag group, even if they had their whole super secret identities club and kept their helmets on at all times and didn’t use real names.

“Ironman!” Exclaimed Cap, visibly sagging in relief. Because yeah… severely outnumbered.

“You going to share with me who designed your jet yet?” Asked Tony, pulling debris off a trapped vigilante. Tony refused to call them ‘Avengers’ which sounded like something a 12 year old came up with.

“You know I can’t reveal that,” Replied the Captain, amusement evident even through the voice modulator of the helmet. “So quit asking already.”

“Well if you’d at least come see me I could hook you up with some better body armor.”

“You know we can’t do that either.” He huffed, throwing his shield at the head of one of Tony’s attackers and seriously that had to be a fluke of geometry because it ricocheted off the wall and back to his hand. What the hell! The mental calculations involved to predict where it would go would be insane… sure, Tony himself could do it, but nobody stupid enough to be on one of these suicide missions should be able to…

“You can’t keep turning me down forever.” Because really, who turns down freebies from Tony Stark? Apparently the Captain over there because Tony still hadn’t had to come good on any of those offers yet, despite repeated offers and maybe, just maybe having already made and tested the prototypes.

Over the course of the next 8 months, the Captain and Ironman interacted on several missions.

It was for this reason that when he was semi-arrested in the compound that Steve was called in.

“Ironman!”

“Heeeey.” Said Tony. He may be just an itsy, tiny bit drunk still. “I didn’t think they let any just any old Alpha in here.” He eyed Steve up and down speculatively before muttering to himself, “I’d make an exception for you too.”

“And yet here you are.” Replied Steve without pausing. “Do you even understand just how much trouble you’re in?”

“I probably will once my liver metabolizes the rest of the scotch.” Slurred Tony unrepentant, because about a liter of grog ago he was sure he was supposed to be surrounded by beautiful Omega by now, not being questioned by some (grudgingly, beautiful) alpha security guy. “I know you from somewhere...” Tony stated, snapping his fingers together to try to prompt the memory through the alcohol induced haze.

“Yes. I’m Captain Rogers. We met in Budapest. You’ve helped us rescue 23 Omega to date. Ironman, we need you to remove the armor so you’re no longer considered a threat. The automated systems…”

“Why Cap... if you wanted to see me naked you just had to ask...” The Captain had saved his life on more than one occasion and he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone these days, but also because frankly he had consulted on those automated defenses back when SI still made weapons so they’d done a good job at disabling the armor- also he was hot… had the armor always been this warm? “But I got to warn you, there’s a small chance I might not be wearing anything underneath.”

(Tony hadn’t been _completely_ naked under the armor, but apparently naked enough for the Omegas who had him surrounded to be appalled).

* * *

“You. You are definitely not an alpha.” Accused Tony, now bereft of the helmets breathing filters. Once he was sufficiently restrained he had been taken to some sort of facility and seated in an interrogation room. It was nice, all pastel colors and soft fabrics… but an interrogation room nonetheless if the huge mirror on one wall was any indicator.

“I never said I was an alpha.” Defended Rogers. And okay that was fair because when Tony looked back he had always been in body armor on the missions. “Why would an Omega strike force even have an Alpha on the team?”

“Huh.” Well... kinda made sense. The whole aversion to killing and all.

“Stark, is it your first time meeting a male omega?” Questioned the red-head. Even in the compound males were rare. Less than 1% of Omega were born male, and of those they were usually sickly and weak. Previously that is - medicine had come a long way.

“Yes. I mean I know they exist, but Omega.. they’re just not normally so…” He gestured at Rogers.

“It’s difficult for omega to put on muscle mass, but not impossible with training.” Remarked the red-head, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Steve did train a lot, but it was also a side effect of the serum that had saved his life. “Although Steve is exceptional.”

“I can see that.”

“It might not be considered conventionally attractive in omega, but it gets the job done.” Interjected Rogers, getting bristly.

“I’m not complaining. 100% approved.” Stated Tony with an expression that wasn't even pretending to be anything but a leer. “Red, how come you don’t… smell?" He asked her.

“It's Natasha." She deigned. "E-blockers. Omegas wear it when they leave the compound and don’t want to be… noticed.” She pointed to patches on her wrists and neck.

Tony sniffed curiously at her offered wrist. Nothing. Yet he could easily smell Steve across the room. Effective. Turning to face Rogers he took a deep breath. Rogers turned scarlet. Interesting.

“You mean… I could potentially meet an Omega and not even notice?”

“You already have. Probably dozens of times.” Announced the newcomer. An older Omega with a flair for the dramatic and a pirate fetish. “Now Rogers, explain to me why your vigilante, alpha friend is stinking up my office?”

“He’s not my…” Steve paused. Was he a friend? “He’s not a threat… ah… he’s… just intoxicated, Sir.”

“Don’t bother denying your little excursions, Rogers. Can’t argue with the 36 of ours you’ve bought home, but this is the first time you bought an Alpha too.”

“Whoa! Whoa there! I came on my own!” Declared Tony, watching Rogers (…Steve?) grind his teeth to keep from admitting anything. “And it’s true. I am. Very drunk that is. But also not a threat.” Tony leaned toward Steve who shied at the attention. Oh ho.

“What are you doing? Mister Stark?” Tony realized he’d grabbed Steve’s hand. Steve was upset about something. “I don't understand! What’s he doing?” Steve demanded from Natasha when Tony didn’t answer.

Natasha answered. With a Taser.

* * *

“You! You did not just use a Taser on a man with a heart problem!” Gasped Tony shaking an accusing finger at Natasha. 1200 volts hurt like a bitch. On the plus, it turned out temporary neuromuscular incapacitation was a pretty good cure for inebriation.

Fury played the footage.

Tony watched himself on the screen turn Steve’s hand over to bare the wrist and push it against his face. “I seriously do not recall anything after this point.” Video Tony grabbed Video Steve’s hair with his free hand, pulling back to expose his neck and going in with exposed teeth. “What!?!” Fury paused the frame with Video Tony bent over an alarmed looking Steve like a still from a low budget vampire movie.

Fury, rubbed at his nose bridge as though he’d gotten one of those headaches that Tony was infamous for giving to Pepper. Who knew they were contagious? “Rogers!” Fury gestured to his neck.

“Sorry Sir. I was off duty when they called in the code 43.” Steve was still visibly shaken – as to be expected since clearly Tony had just tried to bond him.

“Just... cover up.” Sighed Fury, getting a curious hum from Stark that made him cringe again. Natasha tossed what looked like a glue stick that Rogers uncapped and applied to his pulse points.

The effect was immediate. All the color was sucked out of the room. Tony blinked a little in confusion. Huh. The walls were white after all... “Oh.” Grunted Tony, feeling slightly numb at the loss of sensation.

“Sorry.” Mumbled Steve refusing to make eye contact. And pouting. Definitely pouting.

“Anytime. Seriously.” Leered Tony. And WTF he couldn’t even believe himself right now.

“Stark!” Interrupted Fury, because Tony had gone back to ogling Steve, because scent or no scent the man was magnificent.

“Hmm?”

“Look Stark. You’ve entered restricted airspace, damaged our defenses, entered a sealed compound, compromised one of my finest operatives…” Steve might have snorted at that point, “… give me a reason why I should even keep you alive?”

“You need me.” Stated Tony. Then more confidently. “You need me! Otherwise you would have let the automated defenses do what they were supposed to in the first place.” The brief flash of emotion on Fury’s face told him he was on the right track.


	2. Chapter 2

“Steve. I’m sorr…”

“Don’t worry about it. “ Steve waved him off. “You just... surprised me.” Steve was clearly more annoyed by his own reaction than Tony’s. Granted they hadn’t exactly been pen-pals, they had… exchanged information within their individual mission parameters… maybe saved each others lives a couple times… and hell… now he thought about it he didn’t actually know anything about Steve. An hour ago he didn’t even know his name.

Now he was… what? Steve’s…. ward? Fury was kinda… well… furious. Yeah lets put the sexual predator and the victim in a room together and expect them to get along while we organize ourselves a new ultimatum. Tony’s arrival might have been unexpected, but Fury wasn’t about to put the gift horse down just because it arrived early.

“Soooo… Is Fast and Furious your boss or what?” Asked Tony jogging a bit to keep up with Steve’s long strides. Dammit. The armor added a good 8 inches to his height so he'd never processed the information that Steve was actually taller than him.

“I’m…” Steve slowed a little while he tried to come up with a concise way to explain his circumstances. “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.” Steve paused and did the hand thing with another Omega where they clasped hands, lightly running fingertips over each others wrists. Tony had thought it was some kind of super secret handshake at first but was now realizing it was just a friendly greeting. There was also a new world of body language at play that he was decoding on the fly – was it new since the separation or had Omegas always communicated like that and alphas were just oblivious?

Steve had not clasped hands with Fury. Trust issues?

“Where are we going?”

“My place. It’s 2am. They need to regroup… wake up the right people… decide how to handle you.” Steve paused before continuing. “The way you arrived… was very… visible. “ Okay Tony could shoulder that. “Obviously you’re under house arrest.”

Clearly they had arrived because Steve waved some kind of card over the door to release the locks and pushed through. “Bathroom. Kitchen. Bedroom.” Gestured Steve. Tony had to push past him because he was blocking the door and he really couldn’t see where Steve was pointing. “Don’t Touch me!” Yelped Steve pulling away.

“What? I was just…”

“Stay! The fuck! Away from me Stark!” Growled Steve in the mother of all mood swings, glaring at Tony. He slammed the door shut and huffed off to the other door. The one that wasn’t Bathroom, Kitchen, Bedroom.

What. The. Actual. Fuck. Tony stood there stunned for a good 19 seconds before his brain rebooted. “Look Steve… this isn’t exactly an ideal situation for me either!” He marched over to the door that Steve had gone through. Seriously he had a shoe closet bigger than Steve’s whole apartment, and Steve was acting like this was a trial for him… “If you didn’t want me here you shouldn’t have said anything when they wanted to put me in a holding cell!” Tony stepped through the airlock. Why was there an airlock? “Is this a fucking heat room?!?”

Steve, partially hidden by the entrance, shut the door behind him.

* * *

Of course Tony expected the entire apartment was under surveillance – he wasn’t an idiot (usually). However if Steve had already cleared the room of bugs it was unlikely Fury had had a chance to plant more between 2 and 3 am. Tony activated a scrambler (who doesn't carry one?) as he sat on the bed.

“I didn’t bring you in here to… uh…” Steve gestured vaguely at the bed.

“Because its soundproof and bugfree, right?” Suggested Tony. Steve sagged in relief at the fact that Tony didn’t think he had ulterior motives

“Fury’s using both of us.” Steve stated.

“Obviously. What for?”

“You? I’m not entirely sure. Pretty sure he wasn’t expecting you so soon though. Maybe something to do with the Arc reactor?”

Tony hid his surprise well. “And yourself?” He prompted.

“That’s just Fury flexing. I… don’t exactly have permission to go on those missions. I’m not even cleared to leave the city walls.”

“I thought… you guys were allowed to come and go as you like.”

Steve grimaced a little as he thought about how to respond. “I’m a special case." Steve fidgeted, "How much do you know about male Omega?”

“I know they’re pretty rare, but generally suffer from health problems.” Tony had seen a painting that depicted a male omega in the Louvre once. Undoubtably beautiful, but delicate and fey - the exact opposite of Steve who was practically oozing strength and vitality. They generally lived tragic lives being fought over by alphas and if they lived long enough, inevitably died in their first pregnancy. “There’s only records of a handful that lived past 20.”

“Well. They… we… kinda fixed that. There’s 16 of us active. Bruce was the first – he’s in his 60’s so I’m guessing we’ll live an average human lifespan.” Steve gave a little shrug. “There were some side effects.” He looked uncomfortable so Tony didn’t press. “Next was Fury. Then me and Buck.”

Tony nodded, suspecting Buck was offsider #2 of the Avengers. He had a pretty good feeling that offsider #1 was the red head from the interrogation earlier.

“The others are still on ice.”

“Ice? Say what?” Queried Tony.

“On ice. Cryogenically frozen?” Stated Steve, as though it should be obvious.

And it was obvious. Of course. Where else did so many Omega disappear to overnight. It was… shocking, but also logical. There had been a lot of speculation as to how the Omega had been able to support their population after the separation, many Alpha that scoffed that the Omega would be crawling back begging for forgiveness as soon as they ran out of supplies.

“What powers the… uh… the freezers?” Asked Tony, voice hollow, fingers tapping on his chest reflexively. This should be impossible. The only working one was supposed to be the one in his chest…

“The arc reactor of course.”

“The energy output required… but where do you source enough palladium for the core?”

“Palladium? Doesn't the tesseract sustain the reactor? It's not really my area of expertise...”

* * *

________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky got home just after 4am.

Ironically this was the exact time Tony happened to walk out of the heat room. Bored and unable to sleep, Tony had decided to explore and found some weird soft robotics object he just needed to know the purpose of or he might never be able to sleep again.

“Fucking shift work.” Muttered Bucky darkly. “Stevie! You’ll never guess what….” Bucky stopped. There was a fucking Alpha in his fucking bathrobe brandishing a… “STEEEEEVE!” He yelled.

“Buck! It’s okay!” Called Steve from the bathroom, emerging momentarily in a towelling robe.

“That’s fucking StARK STEVE! YOU BOUGHT STARK HOME?” Accused Bucky, eyes wide. “You are so dead when Fury finds out.”

“He knows.” Assuaged Steve.

“Of course he does! This place is bugged to high hell! Why’s he wearing my robe? That's my fucking robe Steve!”

“Mine was too big! I didn’t think you’d mind!” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new one?” Corrected Steve.

“Why does he keep staring at me?” Yelled Bucky. "Mulberry silk. Don't even think about trying to slip me rayon."

“Because you’re yelling Buck.”

Bucky looked at Stark who was just standing there (in his ill-gotten robe). Bucky looked at Steve who was also standing there quietly as though it was normal to be next-to-naked in a room with a strange Alpha.

“Why is he pointing… ‘that’ at me Steve? Why?” Asked Bucky in an artificially calm and far more suitably volumed voice. Steve looked. Looked away.

“Tony!” Steve managed to gasp. “I told you to stay out of the drawers.”

“Well I did. Mostly. I was looking for a blanket. What is this thing?”

“It’s a heat room Stark! Figure it out.” Muttered Bucky. Tony was obviously capable of figuring it out because he let out an involuntary squeal and flung it on the couch, where it subsequently came to life and inched its way between two cushions.

“I’m…. going back in there now.” Stated Tony. A very red-faced Steve still hadn’t looked up.

“It’s Steve’s, not mine!” Yelled Bucky much to Steve’s chagrin.


	3. Chapter 3

Heat room. Explained why he hadn’t found any blankets earlier. Ice machine. Plastic sheets. Selection of personal toys…. speaking of robotics…

“I could make that better.” Stated Stark, gesturing to Bucky’s arm with interest. It wasn’t just bragging – seriously so chunky, he couldn’t see how the guy didn’t have scoliosis already carrying around all that excess metal. 

“It works pretty good as it is.” Defended Barnes flexing his fingers. Curiosity had overcome caution and he was sitting on the bed in the heat room while Tony poked around. “Try the third drawer. The very back.”

“What the hell?” Demanded Steve. “That’s private! Don’t encourage him, Buck!”

“You know we have no secrets Steve.” Stated Bucky, nonchalant. Steve closed the airlock. “Ok. Now we may have secrets.” He said seriously. Which normally Steve would be thankful for but Bucky was still wearing a pair of Steve’s underpants on his head (the one’s that Bucky referred to as his ‘Nona-knickers’… was nothing sacred?).

“So fill in the blanks for me, word is Stark was knocked out of the sky by the sonic cannon and dragged off to SHIELD. How’d you get conned into bringing him home?” (The irony of being knocked out of the sky by his own cannon design was not lost on Tony).

“Right place, right time. Volunteered.” Stated Steve.

“Of course you did.” Sighed Bucky.

“He saved our bacon enough times.” Defended Steve before biting his lip and adding. “Fury was surprisingly open to the idea of him staying here.”

Bucky snorted. “With you and your….” He glanced at Tony speculatively and didn’t continue. “Well. It would make you easier to live with anyway.” Steve gave Bucky a glare.

“I don’t really follow.” Interjected Tony. 

“What do you know about male omega?” Asked Bucky, ignoring when Steve growled a warning (Bucky, Tony presumed, was the omega-equivalent of Rhodey and determined to humiliate his friend in any way possible). 

“I’ve met 3 tonight, so I’d say more than any other Alpha on Earth right now. Steve told me you guys got some sort of serum.”

Bucky looked at Steve who shrugged a bit. There was no point in keeping secrets from Stark at this point. “It’s… not really _perfected_. There’s always problems, some worse than others.” 

“No. Steve is perfect.” Sighed Tony. Because it was true. And things that were true needed to be said. Especially when Steve was right there. He peeked at Steve to see if he was listening.

Bucky shrugged. “That’s the problem. That’s why he’s not allowed outside.”

“Of course.” Nodded Tony. It made absolute sense to him that Steve should be locked up. “He should be protected.” Steve gave an exaggerated groan of sexiness. The minx. It must have been sexiness because otherwise it could only be disgust and that couldn’t be right.

“I can look after myself.” Growled Steve.

“Honestly I’m impressed Stark. I’ve never even seen an Alpha in the same room as Steve not try to climb him like a tree.” Steve made a strangled noise and turned red. “Oh shit! You didn’t!” He accused Tony before grabbing at Steve’s collar to check.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Snapped Steve, pushing him away with a distinct lack of eye contact.

“There… have been other… Alpha’s?” Whined Tony desperately.

Steve gave an exasperated sigh. “Look Buck, the ventilation isn’t good enough for three people. Mister Stark… “ At Tony’s whimper, Steve corrected with a sigh. “Tony… I’m going back out so you can think clearly again. Bucky will explain. It’s just really important you don’t say anything outside of this room that you don’t want others to know. Do you understand?”

Tony nodded. Something…. Something… Steve called him Tony. Steve left the room. Bucky waited. It took just under 3 minutes for the glazed look to drop from Starks face.

“That…. Is some serious shit.” Stated Tony, rubbing his jaw tiredly. Presumably it was sore from hanging open for the last ten minutes while he was drooling over Steve.

“You get it now? Steve’s… been like that since the serum. Physically perfect, accelerated healing, balance, coordination… and overactive scent glands.

“If only his powers could be used for good.” Quoted Tony, getting a chuckle from Bucky.

“They think the serum interacts specific to DNA, so minor differences mean it's expressed differently. They can’t really predict how it will react with any given omega, but given being a male omega is a death sentence anyway…” Bucky shrugged.

“So you too…?” Tony wiggled the fingers of his left hand. Bucky nodded.

“Got off pretty lightly just losing an arm. No super human strength and speed like Steve, but on par with most Alphas. Fury lost an eye, Doctor Banner… well… that’s his business. No one even realized Steve’s added bonus until his first mission out two years ago. Even with the e-blocker some Alpha got up on him and demanded he present. Steve broke him like a twig."

Tony racked his brain for a moment to think of any time omegas had had a political delegation outside the compound in the last two years. “Holy shit! It was Peirce!” He declared. “It was! Steve hospitalized the secretary of the World Security Council! That… that just made my day.” Tony chuckled evilly to himself.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“I always thought he was a prick.” Tony confided.

“Confirm then.” Bucky grinned. “Stark, just so we’re clear, I might not be Steve, but I’m betting I can still break you like a twig.”

“Bucket talk already?” Gasped Tony. “A bit soon for that. I didn’t even try anything yet.” Since the marking. Attempted marking. Marking-Like attempt.

“You will. No one is immune from Steve.”

“Even you?”

“Just keep it in your pants is all!” Snapped Bucky, as the air lock cycled again.

“How’s this?” Asked Steve. He was wearing a fresh coat of e-blocker and the uniform. The one that Tony had been itching to redesign but now made more sense. It was a one-person biohazard suit.

“Looks uncomfortable.” Said Tony.

“Sweats something fierce.” Steve conversationally replied, pulling at the stiff neck. “But is it helping with the… you know…”

“I’m practically rational. Or my normal approximation of. Thank you.”

* * *

Tony remembered reading once that Omega hated early mornings, and peak performance times, while variable, were afternoon and evenings. It had always stuck with him because he could empathise. It could also explain the distinct disgust on Dr Banners face at being woken at 5am. 

“Fury never specifically said we couldn’t take him.” Continued Steve with an offhand shrug, and the distinct lack of eye contact that Tony had come to associated with Steve lieing. Bruce cringed.

“But he’s an Alpha Steve!” Bruce whined before turning to Tony. “No offense Mr. Stark.”

“None taken, Doctor Banner.” Tony could have manners when the situation required it. Or fake them anyway. “A pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

“Likewise, Sir. Your work on quantum computing is groundbreaking.”

“Your work with gamma radiation signatures is phenomenal.” Countered Tony.

“The telepresence headset has been a godsend to the remote colonies…”

“The paper you published on anti-electron collisions?” Tony kissed his fingers with an exaggerated ‘mwah’. 

“As fascinating as this exchange is…” Interrupted Bucky “I figure we got about 15 minutes max before Fury sends someone to escort us all back. Probably to a holding cell this time.”

“Anyway. The Alpha wants to see the reactor.” Said Tony with a flourish. He watched the omegas do their faux-telepathy thing with an exchange of micro gestures, culminating in Dr. Banner tilting his chin up a bit (seemed to mean ‘I trust you’ or maybe ‘I surrender’) and giving a rather pensive sigh (that one was universal).

“What’s the worst he can do? It’s not like he can steal it.” Stated Bucky. “It’s not like he can just slip it under his shirt. What’s the problem?” Tony chuckled a little at the irony of that statement.

“Okay.” Bruce sighed, pushing his hair back with a defeated sigh. “So I’m going to take a known illegal into a secure facility. No problem.”

“He hasn’t actually been charged with anything.” Interjected Steve on Tony’s behalf.

“Just being in the compound is illegal Steve!” Stressed Bruce, but he was already gathering his access gear.

* * *

8 minutes, 14 seconds. That’s how long it had taken Steve to burn off the e-blocker. Tony had known the second it had happened but kept his mouth shut. If Steve knew he might put more on. And that would be bad. He cast a surreptitious glance at Steve. Hehe.

“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?” Sighed Steve to Bucky and Bruce, not turning around. He took the e-blocker tube out and applied a thick layer.

“Steve… why?” Begged Tony as the scent waned. “I love you!”

“It’s not… “ Steve didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t okay. His weird ass biology was just messing with another Alpha. “You don’t. It’s just hormones.” Maybe they were going about this wrong. Maybe they needed to get Tony a helmet. One with air filters.

“No!” Denied Tony. “I do! I… is that… is that the tesseract?” Instantly distracted by the familiar yet different technology of the large arc reactor. “How does that even…? It replaces the palladium? How is that even possible…?” Tony continued in his rhetoric babble. “Howard built this.” He suddenly stated.

“This is the original reactor your father built. We only have the one tesseract so….” Bruce shrugged. “Palladium wasn’t readily available in 1947 so it’s the only one.”

Tony was absolutely dieing to get his hands on the tesseract. Literally. The toxicity resulting from the palladium byproducts was killing him. What was that thing even made from? “Does it have byproducts? Radiation?”

“None. We don’t… really understand much about it at all. It just… works.” Bruce looked anxious. “I spent years studying it but…” He shuddered.

“Unlimited green energy… I want to play with it.” Declared Tony.

“You might get your chance Stark.” Interrupted Fury, startling Bruce.

* * *

“So you want a new reactor.” Stated Tony, templing his fingers in front of him.

“Correct.”

“…and what do I get out of this arrangement?” Tony cursed himself when he couldn’t stop his eyes darting to Steve who looked highly offended at the gesture. Fury smirked.

“We’d subsidise you for your time and expenses of course…”

“I already have more money than I need, try again Cyclops.”

“Once the new reactor is operational, if you’d be interested in working with our weapons devel..”

“No.” Tony sharply interrupted. “I don’t do that anymore, try again.”

“Rogers would be your personal laison during the project and...” Steve bristled.

“I’m not a goddamn escort! I won't do that again!” Interrupted Steve. “Sir.” He corrected momentarily.

“Of course not.” Demurred Fury. “I wasn’t proposing otherwise… I just meant to assure Stark he’d have people he could trust around if he chose to accept the project. Security for our guest, nothing more. We don't trade people here.” Something in those words shut Steve up immediately.

"Just to address the elephant in the room, I was under the impression I was a prisoner." Stated Tony.

"Truthfully we had intended to invite you here for some time. The arc reactor meets our current energy needs, but the other colonies aren't nearly so lucky. If we could build more of them..."

"But you only have the one tesseract, don't you?"

"Howard hinted that it would be possible to stabilise the electron cascade with the right element. Of course palladium would be no good... the byproducts are quite toxic... as you would know." Purred Fury. 

Shit. Tony wasn't sure how, but he was sure the smug bastard knew about the poisoning. He hadn't even told Rhodey and Pepper yet. "I've tried. All the known isotopes. Nothing worked."

"So make a new one." Said Steve.

"What? No! You can't just..." Tony froze mid sentence. "It's not that simple... you... but..." Was it that simple? If Steve said it, it had to be possible. "I... I'd need a particle accelerator."

"How big?" Said Banner, like he was asking whether Tony wanted sugar in his coffee (which would frankly be an abomination). "Ours is just over 3km, but we could access Wakanda's if needed."


	4. Chapter 4

Ba-da-bing Ba-da-boom. Brand new element. Having a world class, nuclear physicist on hand and a working particle accelerator sure helped speed up the process. Now to detox the last 6 months of byproducts and ask Steve to marry him and everything would be peachy (give or take a bit of shrapnel in his chest).

“You’re pouting again.” Pointed out Bucky.

“Uh… no I’m not.” Denied Tony. Since Steve had gone on break his streak of inspiration had failed him. Everything was clearer and easier when Steve was there. Now it was just… blah.

“You really, really are.” Chuckled Bucky.

“So… are super spy and security detail the only career option for male omega or what?” Tony asked, determined to change the topic away from his pouting (or lack of same).

“You forgot nuclear physicist. But yeah, all the males have to do security shifts, even Bruce.”

“Seems like a waste of talent.” Because Steve should definitely be devoting all his time to being a full time underwear model. “Why just males?”

“Alpha commands don’t work on us. What, you didn’t know that?” Bucky looked at Bruce askance, “Shit, do alphas not know that these days? It’s not a serum thing, its always been that way!” Bruce shrugged non-committedly. Desperate to change the conversation to something less treasonous, Bucky added “Steve… Steve paints. When we’re not on detail. And. You know, rescuing people.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well you hear the command and then you just do what you wanted to do anyway.” Shrugged Bucky, forgetting his own segue. “Is it any different for Alphas?:

“Not that!” Tony screwed up his nose. He supposed the few pre-serum males didn’t really get much opportunity to disobey an Alpha without physical repercussion, so of course it wouldn’t be widely known. “I mean the painting, is he good?”

“Yeah, I think so. He wants to do landscapes but we don’t really have much access to them here, so he mostly has to work from photos. Always says the lighting is wrong in them but they look good to me.”

“Speaking of Steve, when…”

“My shift lasts four hours Stark.” Interrupted Bucky without preamble. “It’s been,” Bucky checked his watch, “57 minutes.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.” Lied Tony.

* * *

"Steve hates me. He hates me and he's never coming back." Whined Tony. It had been 1 hour, 17 minutes. Bruce sighed.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you Mr Stark. He just doesn't want to lead you on."

"He likes me?" Fished Tony. "Did he ever talk about me... before...?" he asked hopefully.

"More... neutral. I think?" Stuttered Bruce. "He didn't really say anything to me, but I didn't even know about the rescue missions until they bought in the New York seven and the kid from DC. You should ask Bucky about that stuff."

* * *

“Steve knew your dad.” Bucky stated deadpan. “He’d probably know more than me.” Tony had been venting about outdated operating systems, shoddy engineering and Howard’s personal hygiene in general and hadn’t actually been expecting a response at all. Steve knew Howard? Well. That was. Something. It was difficult to think of Steve existing in an entirely different timeline, especially one with Howard in it. “Steve didn’t really talk about him much.”

Tony knew Steve had good taste.

“I think he was mostly scared of him. I was eight and Steve was eleven, both wards of the compound. Steve was a pre-heat but Howard was the Pentagons genius weapon designer and the compound was still controlled by the military then, so no one was going to stop him. Basically in exchange for access to Steve, Howard designed their weapons. Told Steve he was there working on the serum."

“Huh.” Stated Tony intelligently. Howard the philanthropist? Doubtful. Howard the creeper that forced his suit on a pre-heat omega in exchange for life saving medicine? Yeah. That was Howards MO in a nutshell.

“With the war coming Alpha’s were desperate to mark as many Omega as possible but even Howard Stark couldn’t knot a pre-heat without consequences, and Steve didn’t like being told he had to do anything, so being the little shit he was, he lied about it. Went through three full cycles before anyone got wise. Must have been hell for him. Then it didn’t matter anymore ‘cos the war had started and Howard had knocked up your mom. The rest is history.“

“Look, I'm only telling you this 'cos you got to give Steve some space. The military used him to bait Howard. Howard’s weapons killed millions. He carries all those deaths because your dad was a creepy son of a bitch who wanted to stake a claim on a male omega and Steve still thinks of Howard as the victim. It’ll kill him if Fury uses him to get to you. Got it?”

“I get it. I already told Fury I wouldn’t design weapons for him.”

“So what do you think they want the tesseract for? Paper weight? Or glowy murder cube? The arc reactor works fine, sure it could use an upgrade but its not like we’ve had a population explosion overnight, sans yourself of course.”

“So the real, underlying question here is what’s put a bee in Fury’s proverbial bonnet that he feels the need to start a one man arms race?”

“Um… I think I can answer that?” Interrupted Bruce, attracting Tony and Bucky’s attention.

“Aliens.”


	5. Chapter 5

The kid could be surprisingly useful. This was probably because Tony was very, very good at ignoring people when they started talking. Which was very, very useful, because Peter liked talking very, very much.

“And as I was saying Mr. Stark it is such an honor to be working with you. I never even thought I’d have a chance to see the working react…”

“Calipers.” Interrupted Tony while Peter scrambled to put the item in his outstretched hand.

“….when you saved us in the…”

“Soldering iron.”

“…it was just amazing! I thought we were done for then the Ironman suit just came in and…

“Screwdriver.” Tony didn’t even need that last one. But it bought about a blessed 34 seconds of silence while Peter tried to intuit what size and design screwdriver Tony was after. He settled on a hex and passed it over hopefully.

As far as Tony was concerned, it wasn’t rude when you’d already heard the same story paraphrased three times already. Peter was the kid they’d saved a couple months ago, and Tony wouldn’t have recognized him at all if wasn’t for Peters first iteration of his rescue.

The main reason Tony was trying to silence Peter was that he was desperately trying to overhear the conversation between Bucky and Steve. Peter had been active when stolen from the DC compound, unlike the other omega that had been taken from cold storage with out any knowledge of the crime. Any omega would be an extremely valuable commodity, but a male would be virtually priceless. Alphas had always valued the rare above all else.

More importantly, Peter had been witness to intruders in the compound at all. The impetus to do a manual check.

“Buck! The numbers are back! Missing 8 from LA, 17 from Houston, 9 from Chicago, 12 from Philly… and that’s only in the US! These bastards are skimming off Omega all over. The automated systems aren’t even detecting them missing. We can’t even tell when they were taken.”

“They could have taken them one at a time for the last few years for all we know. Sonovabitch.”

Tony wasn’t completely sold on Banners atmospheric disturbances in New Mexico being aliens. Organized omega trafficking? That Ironman could help with. Be useful. Be indispensible. "Unlikely. It would be nearly impossible to hide those numbers longterm without breaking them up, and if they sold them piecemeal there'd be Alpha's bragging about it by now." Tony shrugged, the richer and more influential an alpha was, generally the more need they felt to flaunt it to other rich and influential alpha. And nobody was as rich or as influential as Tony Stark. "It's what we do."

* * *

“Stark. You have to go.” Stated Fury.

Tony had been here about 3 days. Done some good work. Gotten in some good Steve watching time. Steve had even given up on the ridiculous notion that he could ignore Tony into submission… if that wasn’t going to work for Pepper it sure as hell wasn’t gonna work for Steve who was much more interesting to play with.

“Uh. No I don’t.” Replied Tony.

“Colonel Rhodes says otherwise.”

“Pshaw. The air force has no say in this. I broke the perimeter, I’m your problem now.” Tony went back to his omelet. Or rather it was gonna be Steve’s omelet from Tony because feeding omegas was what alphas did.

“That might be true for almost any other alpha but you’re just a little bit too high profile. I also have an Obadiah Stane demanding your release.” There was a humbling thought. Not because Obie thought that Tony needed help. But because he was more than likely after a confirmation of death so he could push SI back into weapon production.

“Fine. Fine. Get him on the line. I’ll let him know I’m fine.” Tony added another Franken-omelet on the Bucky stack. Maybe the next one would be good enough for Steve. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll do it myself. JARVIS, patch me through to Obie.”

“Certainly, Sir. I do need to point out its 4am and Mr. Stane will be unreceptive to your requests.

“Nonsense. He’s gonna be thrilled to find out I’m alive. Oh! And have one of the armors deliver him a crate of Moet as well. It’s not a celebration without bubbly.“

“I’ll have it timed to arrive the moment your conversation is over. Connecting your call now sir.”

If Fury was annoyed at Tony installing an AI in Steve’s apartment, he was even less impressed when a ruffled Stane, clearly still in bed, appeared on the wall screen.

“Obie? Obie! It’s me! Your favorite son!”

“Tony? What the fu…” Obie seemed to gather himself, “You’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, why wouldn’t I be alive? I survived Afghanistan; this was a walk in the park in comparison. Anyhooo, just reaching out to let you know I’m taking a couple of 'me' days. Don’t look at me like that; I’ve disappeared for more than 3 days before without you contacting the National Guard. In fact I’ve been meaning to ask exactly what actions you were taking when I was in that cave… because it sure didn’t seem like much in retrospect…” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway. Do carry on. No weapons. TTFN.”

“Tony! Wait! Don’t hang up!” Commanded Stane. Obie always had had a bit of a trigger finger on the Alpha commands, it’s not like those worked over videophone (or for that matter on Tony at all since he got his first chest hair) anyways. Tony was about to roll his eyes and hang up when Obie’s eyes widened in surprise. Tony turned to see who was behind him. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Steve Rogers, all growed up and glowed up.” Purred Stane. “Times treated you well. And I see you found yourself another Stark. How long are you planning to keep this one hanging?”

In a panic Tony ended the call.


	6. Chapter 6

Howard had never _really_ dedicated himself to weapon design. The engineering was staid and boring. The outcome was predictable. Computers. “ _Computers are the way of the future Obie…”_

Luckily, Alphas like Howard were easy to redirect.

You just had to find something they wanted, dangle it like a carrot, then tell them they couldn’t have it. Then they’d work themselves to the bone to prove you wrong.

Regrettably, as Howard grew more powerful and influential, it became more and more difficult to find something he didn’t already have. Something novel, both desired by other Alphas and yet also incredibly exclusive. Something he couldn’t actually have straight away.

Howard went through a whole slew of trashy Hollywood Starlet wannabes before Obie caught wind of the pair of male omega at the New York Compound. Two males born within a few years of each other, so soon after the last war was seen as something of a sign from God. It would never be attributed to the more general availability of antibiotics, vaccines or the improvements in antenatal care – that would be ridiculous. Clearly a reward to Alphas for their victory. 

Apparently some Doctor was researching a serum to improve male Omega health. Now there was a worthy newsreel, ‘Genius Howard Stark helps save lives again!’ Not only a nice little publicity turner for Stark Industries, but more importantly the pair of boys were barely more than pups at the time and still had the seedier parts of Manhattan gossiping. With the right incentive Howard could be tied up in weapons contracts for years while they matured.

So Howard had got his photo-shoot meeting Erskine, helped design some radiation chamber and met the two boys. Regrettably Howard had never had a virgin complex, had never liked children full stop. But that was fine. He just needed to be convinced of the need to groom the boy, Omegas were so flighty after all and it wouldn’t do for the boy to be taken by some other Alpha. You had to nurture them young or they’d end up spoiled and vulgar. Howard just needed to monopolize the boy. But how to ensure the boy never came into contact with another Alpha and also allow Howard access?

Why... Obie had connections in the military, if they felt beholden to Howard in exchange for a few weapons designs…? Well… it could be arranged… You know several very high rank Alphas already had their eyes on young Steven, born on the 4th of July, now there was a talking point… but what are the desires of a General compared to the penultimate genius of his time, Howard Stark?

The boy had been quiet and reserved. Like a skittish animal, he had accepted Howard’s chocolate at the matron’s behest, but kept his distance. Howard had hardly been enamored. Obie didn’t make the mistake of bringing him sober again.

Six years. Six years Obie sat through Howards weekly visit, with its stilted conversations and awkward gifts before he got the first heady whiff of heat on the boy and knew he would soon have to find a new distraction for Howard.

Not as soon as he thought though. Half way into a bottle of bourbon, Howard hadn’t even noticed. The boy knew. There was even less eye contact that normal, something Obie had convinced Howard was a sign of modesty rather than trepidation. After all, a meek Omega was infinitely preferable to an assertive one.

The sly, little shit pulled it off for a good 5 months before Obie had had enough of the game. It was insulting to see the kid walking all over Howard, and by proxy Obie himself. It was mildly disconcerting to think the kid had his own agenda when he looked at Howard innocently from beneath his lashes while smelling of peppermint oil to hide the heat smell. Steve never made eye contact with Obie at all.

Obie growled low at the kid, so that he shuffled closer to Howard defensively. The little shit was wearing a slip dress today. Rather than looking sexy, it was designed for a much curvier omega, and made him look like a little girl playing dress ups from his mothers wardrobe. The baby doll he clutched to his chest completed the ensemble. He might have pulled off the look of a 10-year-old girl holding a tea party, but behind it all was the barely contained scent of slick. With his small size, it was easy to forget the kid had turned 17 just a few months ago - Steve’s scent had always been weak with his poor health and Howard hadn’t had the greatest sense of smell since working on Leviathan.

Clearly, this was the answer to Obie shaking the boy and telling him to dress up for his alpha the week before. Howard’s eye had been wandering and the last thing Obie needed now was some woman distracting him, not with the Manhattan Project still in the early stages of development. But Obie wasn’t going to let some kid play him at his own game.

“How’s Bucky doing?” He asked conversationally, getting the satisfaction of seeing Steve’s jaw twitch. The day he’d first met Steve and seen the look of defiance in his eyes, Obie had slapped him hard across the face and warned him it was him or Bucky. Threat to the younger omega had always been the leverage Obie had needed. “He must be… what… 14 now? Should be going through his first heat any day.”

“He’s been sick. Sir.” Answered Steve demurely. Obie was impressed despite himself. It took balls for an omega to straight out lie to an alphas face like that. Especially an omega cycling a heat.

“Maybe you should bring him next time.” Suggested Obie. The palpable threat hung in the air between them.

“No.” Said Steve vehemently, grabbing Howards arm aggressively. “Howard is mine.” Obie raised a brow. He hadn’t expected the boy to play the possessive omega card. Smart kid.

Howard preened at the physical contact as much as the possessive. It was a calculated risk on Steve’s part to get so close to Howard in his current state. Since his first heat he had always kept a good arms length between them.

“Don’t be so crude Obie. You know how omega get when they’re courting!” Snapped Howard in his defence. Insulting sure, but Steve would take what help he could get.

"Who knows? I’ve been thinking of getting an omega for myself.” Suggested Obie. “Quite like the way they smell.” He scented the air deeply, which caused Howard to mirror the action unconsciously. Steve stilled, hoping not to spread any scent with Howard so close. It was a vain hope.

“Oh.... Steve….” Howard growled lowly, pulling him in closer as the boy struggled to get free. Howard’s free hand snaked up his thigh and Obie was betting the kid regretted the dress now. Not as much as Howard regretted letting his guard down as Steve drove the heel of his palm into Howards nose.

Well. It was probably for the best. Steve was a manipulative little bitch, and Obie didn’t like competition. He had a back-up plan all ready to go in delightfully curvy, yet vacant, pianist Maria Carbonell. Howard always did have a thing for blondes.


	7. Chapter 7

“Jarvis. End transmission.”

“Stark!” Barked Fury. “Who gave you permission to…”

“Ehh… I don’t sleep much.” Dismissed Tony absently, all attention riveted on Steve who was desperately trying to suppress a panic attack. “Steve…?”

“That was Obadiah Stane.” He said emotionlessly, a direct contradiction to the distressed smell he was giving off. Like burnt sugar, it was a terrible combination to the burnt egg smell already in the kitchen.

“So… morning Steve. I made a few improvements while you were asleep. Your TV now gets all the channels, makes video calls and can simultaneously sass you in a British accent. Sorry about the sass. I don’t know where he got that from. Also I made you breakfast.” Tony slid a plate of toaster waffles across (because… yeah, the omelet needed more work).

Apparently Steve was too distressed to remember the ignore-Tony-protocol. Was the espresso machine too much? “Why?” He inquired of the food. Not the food of course. Why was Stane on his wall.

“Well. Fury here has brought it to my attention there may be a little civil unrest regarding the whereabouts of Tony Stark, this one is my personal favorite.” Tony waved the still of Obadiah Stane’s face with its perpetual sneer away to be replaced with a news headline that read: ‘Did Billionaire Tony Stark Really Claim 137 Omega in just one night?’ “I mean what the hell? 137 is such a ridiculously concrete number! Anyway, I just needed to assure a few people I was fine. And not… like in a super orgy or something.”

“Stane recognized you.” Fury stated, startling Steve back to the real problem.

“Uhm.” Nodded Steve. “Howard bought him here.” He paused. “Before. Before the war.”

“He would have known about the development of the serum, but lack of reaction to your age was… enlightening.” Murmured Fury thoughtfully. “The question is whether he thought the serum slowed your aging or he knows about the cryo. What can you tell us about him Rogers?”

“Not much.” Steve shrugged. “He… uh… encouraged Howard to drink. A lot.” Knowing Howard the way he did, Tony was reasonably sure Steve was being conservative in this particular assessment.

“If you had to hazard a guess, where would his sympathies lie on omega rights?” Fury continued.

“I…” Steve glanced a look at Tony to let Fury know he wasn’t sure how much he could say in front of him.

“He’s an ass-hat.” Tony broke in. “Thinks the only place omega belong is the bedroom or the kitchen.” Tony took in Fury’s appraising expression. “What? Just because the man basically raised me after Howards death doesn’t mean I’m blind to the fact he’s a complete bigot. You think he might be involved in your missing people.” It wasn’t a question.

“Honestly we thought it might have been you until we ran into the Ironman.” Fury shrugged the accusation off. Tony just nodded at the backhand compliment. It would have taken a lot of resources and skills to coordinate the abductions after all.

To be honest Tony hadn’t been surprised when Fury turned up at Steve’s door that morning… or should it be night? At which point did AM get referred to as morning because if it was sun up it was technically night still. Introducing a foreign AI into the compound network and then politely requesting it to disable Fury’s little bug-a-thon was quite the nights work. Or maybe it was having one of the iron legion deliver a bunch of stuff he desperately needed… like 4 dozen eggs, a slab of speck, a De’Longhi and a couple pounds of dark roast. As a consolation, Tony offered Fury a practice omelet.

Was Obie involved with the missing Omega? Tony could kick himself, he’d personally recovered as many of the missing Stark weapons as he could, and tightened security to the point that any of the existing weapons caches would be impossible to raid until they could be dismantled or destroyed. Had this driven the previous redistributor to search for a different source of revenue? Maybe human trafficking?

The whole blood poisoning imminent death thing had distracted him far too much from Obie’s activities. To be fair it was a quite human reaction to imminent death, but he should have been better than that. Would have to be better that that if he was going to protect Steve. He growled a little to himself in reprimand. Steve, across the table stopped poking the now cold waffles, free hand defensively coming up to cover his neck. He wasn’t sure about the whole omega thing but there was still the business of how those weapons had gotten into the hands of the ten rings to begin with.

“We still have 46 Omega unaccounted for. Maybe more internationally.”

“46 isn’t enough. Especially now you're onto them. If it was me? I’d clone them. They’ll need them for surrogates." Only omega could carry an omega pup to term. "Look for large orders on maternity hospital goods. Somewhere stupidly isolated, with questionable ethics on human cloning.” Tony tapped thoughtfully on his chest. “Jarvis, run the parameters.”

“Why not just breed them?” Questioned Bucky who had joined them despite a facial expression that suggested it was far too early for this shit.

“They’ll only want omega, not alpha or beta pups. This way they get 100% return. They can get all the alpha manpower they need with the promise of those pups.” 

“Those pups won’t be of age for at least 14 or 15 years.” Pointed out Fury. “We can’t be sure they’re in it for such a long game.”

“It worked on Howard.” Shrugged Steve. “Plus, who’s to say they’ll wait?”

“Steve…” murmured Tony soothingly. “Did Howard…” Tony couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence.

“What? No! It wasn’t like that! Howard, he’d just talk and bring me presents. It was very… flattering.” The words might be anti-inflammatory, but Steve’s tone was heart breaking. “I was only a kid. Howard wasn’t that interested. He never forced me to do anything I didn’t agree to.“ No. That had been Stane. It had always been Stane ordering him to sit on Howard’s lap or kiss Howard’s mouth. Steve shivered.

“Jesus Steve.” Bucky broke the silence. Steve had always been quiet about Howards visits, he might not have known about them at all except he’d seen Steve throwing candy in the trash one day. Bucky had been worried it was poisoned or something because Steve loved candy, but the beta matron assured him Steve just wanted to look pretty for Mister Stark. Bucky told Steve he was plenty skinny already, but he didn’t care about getting fat if Steve wasn’t gonna eat that chocolate, and Steve had started passing it on. As Steve had gotten older the gifts were candy less often, and silly things like face powders and lipstick, like Mister Stark didn’t even know Steve wasn’t a girl. Sometimes in winter, Steve would throw the gift in the fire without even opening it and just watch it burn. Those were the days when Steve had bruises, always high on his thighs where the matron wouldn’t see.

“It was never _… that_ … sex.” Steve growled out in embarrassment. “I hadn’t even had a heat then.” Except he had. Bucky had thought it was a great game to help Steve hide his heat from the Matron. It had been easy as the old beta had no experience with male omega and Steve regularly had fevers from his recurrent pneumonia anyway. He hadn’t realized how much pain Steve would have been in until his own heat had begun. “This isn’t even about me! I mean there are drugs now that can force a heat! They wont have to wait that long. Maybe 12 or 13 years at most.”

"Jarvis. Cross-reference sourcing clomiphene, luliberin." Tony instructed.

"Narrowed to 63 potential locations, Sir."

"They'll need anti-depressants, they'll never get them to term without them. Ones suitable for a pregnant omega." Added Steve.

"Jarvis. Add sourcing SSRI's."

"Narrowed to 18 potential locations worldwide, Sir."

"Stressed omega won't produce enough milk." Suggested Bucky. 

"Jarvis. Nutritional supplements. Baby formula. Diapers. Baby blankets. Humidi-cribs." 

"3 potential locations fitting those parameters Sir."

"How many of them are Sokovia?" Asked Tony.

"Sir, I fail to see why you had me run the parameters when you already knew the answer." Sighed Jarvis.


	8. Chapter 8

To a beta, the way alphas assessed attractiveness of omega was difficult to quantify, some weird mixture of mating potential and contradicting aesthetics... much easier to just shrug it off as bizarre pheromones. Things that any sane beta could not possibly have any concept of.

Put simply, there was nothing more attractive than a fat omega with a belly full of pups (provided they were your own of course). As such, Omega were naturally prone to weight gain and quite fond of high calorie foods. Such an omega was generally unattainable, highly valued and clearly already claimed. This was not necessarily what omega wanted for them selves, merely an assessment of what alpha found _most_ attractive.

To approach a claimed omega with intent was an act of aggression and personal insult. Being alpha did not mean you were above being civilised. You simply had to kill the other alpha first, then give the omega a couple of months to grieve… and shuck the bond of course. Generally this took about two months. A stressed, grieving omega could neither catch nor bring a pregnancy to term, so a determined alpha had reason to be suitably patient.

Despite the obvious contradiction, this made the next most desirable omega a thin one. Thin-ness was associated with being unclaimed. In modern times, more often than not this was emulated with questionable dieting practices rather than poor nutrition. It marked an omega as unclaimed nearly as clearly as a lack of markings on the neck or thigh and frankly was a lot less painful.

At first, Steve hadn’t been attractive thin. He’d been awkward thin, a result of chronic illness. Since Howards preference had always swayed more to the widows then the unclaimed, Obie had made it his mission to fatten the boy up to suit Howards taste. (Not to mention Howards go-to courting gifts of lingerie and jewellery weren’t really appropriate given Steve’s age.)

Steve was pretending to be absorbed in a picture he was creating for Howard. Ignoring Howard and Obie was the brat’s strategy when-ever the matron left the room. It was dinosaurs this week. Kid was working through a repertoire of topics each more childish than the last. Obie already had to sit through two consecutive weeks of simpering unicorns and smug-looking kittens.

“You’re too skinny kid.” Grunted Obie. “Do you even eat any of this candy we bring you?”

“I share it with the other omegas, sir.” Said Steve adding purple spikes to the stegosaurus. “If I give them enough candy maybe it’ll trick them into liking me.“ Obie had to admit he was a gutsy little shit when Howard was too sloshed to notice.

“C’mon Stevie, we can be friends! Eat some candy for your uncle Obie.” He held it out, wiggling it, like there was anything in Steve’s surly disinterest from the last six months to suggest he would in anyway eat it from his hand.

“I don’t like those ones.” Huffed Steve. “Peanut brittle is okay.” He confided in a whisper as the matron returned. It was a stupid lie, one that resulted in an epi-pen in his thigh and the matrons fingers down his throat a week later when Obie had tried to force feed him a piece of Meadors. Still felt like a victory.

* * *

“Sokovia. Southeastern Europe. Your basic post-soviet, break-away. Lots of poor, unhappy people. I’ve tracked some missing weapons there. I’ve had Jarvis trying to discreetly monitor the Sokovian Armed Forces for a while now. These guys get a gold star for seriously shitty ethics and human experimentation, and that’s only the stuff on public record, who knows what else they’re keeping secret.”

“You’re Tony Fucking Stark! I didn’t think there was a server in existence you couldn’t hack.” Provoked Fury.

“Of course there isn’t!” Blustered Tony. “Uh, I specified ‘discreetly’! Of course I can get more, but they’ll, you know... know I’m poking around. If you want to keep your people safe you don’t want to show all your cards straight up. More importantly, earlier this year, in a rare display of public health concern, the military has spontaneously mandated the construction of three quarantine hospitals in remote areas. I mean I could be wrong, and these guys could be pre-empting a global pandemic, or I could be right.”

“We need a ground operative for confirmation.” Stated Steve chewing his lip in consternation.

“We have one.” Tony glanced at Fury. “Oh? Did you want to say that? It was your news... no really, go ahead…” Tony waved imperiously at Fury who continued to look cross. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m Tony Fucking Stark! There’s nothing I can’t hack. Including your network. They’ll probably let you know any minute now.” Fury’s phone buzzed. “Damn. I’m good.”

* * *

“Serious. That’s Steve.” Laughed Bucky. Tony very definitely did not laugh. Because that would be rude.

“Oh god no! You showed him that?” Steve groaned at Bucky’s affirmative nod. There may have been a _little_ snickering. “It’s a wig!” Tried Steve without success. “They _made_ me pose for those!”

“’Those’?” Questioned Tony. “There’s more than one?” He looked accusingly at Bucky. “You holding out on me Barnes?” Bucky gave a very sinister grin.

“You’re a terrible friend!” Steve pointed an accusing finger at Bucky. ”I want a divorce!”

“Fine, fine.” Dismissed Bucky. “But I’m keeping the photo albums in the settlement.” He turned to Tony and mock whispered, “It really was a wig, he hacked off all his hair the week before because he thought they’d give up. Wait til you see the ones they took to sell war bonds. They gave him ringlets.”

Fury had swept out earlier in a way that suggested he was personally offended with all of them. Or maybe i was just a terminal case of resting bitch face. Tony hadn't known him long enough to judge, but Obie suffered from something similar. Tony sipped his _real-_ not-instant coffee and gave a blessed sigh.

"Fury might want him gone, but I vote we keep him." Stated Bucky. Bucky was not at all biased because he'd wanted a coffee machine for a while now. And Tony made a latte art swan in his cup. It was the little touches that mattered.

Steve looked briefly at the coffee that had been put before him. He sighed and stirred out the hearts briskly. "He trashed our kitchen."

"Uh. Excuse you. _'Remodelled'_." Because the De'longhi had needed space. And maybe part of the bench was missing but that had been a genuine accident, and so maybe Tony had had to strip some wiring out of the wall to wire in Jarvis... but the rest of the destruction was just plain cosmetic. Nothing that housekeeping couldn't handle.

"So... we going to Sokovia?" Asked Bucky. 

"Soon as we hear from Nat." Nodded Steve.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha was the smartest omega Steve had ever met. Which was a huge compliment and not a reflection at all on the fact that he and Bucky were kept relatively isolated from the other omega in the compound. Apart from classes and meals where they weren't supposed to talk, he rarely came into contact with the girls.

Natasha ran an appraising look around the room. “You live just like the rest of us.” She said simply, before poking casually through Bucky’s things in the chest at the end of his bed. “I thought there’d be… “ She pursed her lips. “I dunno. A chandelier or something?”

Steve, who had defensively grabbed Bucky to shield him growled a little. “What do you want?” He demanded, still full of adrenaline from having a stranger drop (literally, from the ceiling) into the dorm he shared with Bucky in the middle of the night. This was exactly what the matron had warned him would happen - except in her version it was an alpha coming to rape him because he hadn’t followed the rules. Steve wondered which rules specifically because he’d been rather liberal in his interpretation of the rules lately.

“I was just curious.” She lied. Steve was used to being lied to. She wanted something. He matched her stare for stare for what felt like ages before she grinned.

“What do you want?” Repeated Steve. Bucky, still half asleep whimpered as Nat unwrapped one of his candies and popped it into her mouth.

“That.” She stated, pointing at the newspaper spread out on Steve’s bed. The omega library at the compound had a lot of books but the majority of them were primers to teach the younger omega to read. The books for the older kids were a combination of omega centric cautionary tales and trashy romance novels. Howard’s newspaper with its teasing headlines written so large that even Steve’s poor vision could read them from his end of the couch fascinated him.

Howard’s visits had fallen into a simple routine. Howard would sit and read his newspaper. Steve would draw something. Both of them would ignore Stane. It wasn’t exactly exciting but it was safe and comfortable. At the end of the hour, the matron would come and tell Howard his time was up. And there it was. Howard would toss the newspaper in the trash and leave. There was about a 40 second gap when everyone’s back was turned and it was just Steve and the trashcan.

The matron had a very, very specific list of things that Steve was supposed to do and a very, very specific list of things that Steve wasn’t allowed to do. Going through the trash was very definitely on the ‘do not’ list. But then… it was not technically ‘going through’ the trash if it was sitting right there on the very top. There was no specific rule about not taking things off the top of the trash.

Steve slipped it under his vest. He sat silently with his ankles crossed with the ‘correct’ posture when the matron turned back, sure she would notice the missing newspaper or see the outline under his clothes. But she didn’t.

Nobody had ever said Steve could not have a newspaper. Maybe it was because they didn’t think he would want one. But Steve also knew asking for things was a sure way for them to end up on the very, very specific ‘no’ list. Plausible deniability.

* * *

Steve had acquired and read seven newspapers already when one week Howard had grunted, screwed the paper up in disgust and tossed it in the trash earlier than usual. Stane had honed in on the opportunity to try to goad Steve into ‘cheering Howard up’, which Steve had naturally ignored, instead pretending to focus on coloring in a violently pink kitten. Steve couldn't wait to read that article. The one that had upset Howard.

When the matron turned to usher Howard and Stane out, the paper had not slipped under Steve’s clothes as easily as usual. The crumpled surface had rustled and Howard’s head had turned at the unexpected sound. He saw.

For whatever reason, Howard didn’t say anything, just snapped his eyes forward again, and asked something inane of the matron as he drew her and Obie away. Away from Steve frozen over a trashcan with a very obvious newspaper half tucked in his pants.

It was the nicest thing any alpha had ever done for him. And that was even counting the time the colonel had presented Steve with a dismembered finger from the brigadier after he’d ‘accidentally’ learned the brigadier tried to slip Steve a Mickey Finn. Steve had been fascinated with it as it slowly changed color for nearly a month before the matron found out and threw it in the incinerator.

After that week, Howard had folded the paper properly and left it on the couch. It was practically permission.

Every week Steve would read his newspaper in the middle of the night by candle light (Bucky was getting real good at stealing candle stubs now, so they didn’t have to pretend he was eating them anymore). Then dispose of it. It was important there be no evidence if the matron did a spot search (a relatively frequent event since the colonel’s gift).

“I’m Nat. You’re Steve. Where'd you steal it?” Nat demanded smoothing out the pages reverently. Steve stayed quiet. “Right choice. You should never admit to anything.”

Nat knew lots of things. Being female meant she wasn’t as closely watched as Steve and Bucky, but then apparently nobody was watched quite as much as Steve. They were all considered assets, but Steve being a boy, and with his golden hair was the main prize. Bucky was cute, but too Semitic looking. Steve didn’t even know what that meant, but if it kept Buck a little bit safer he was happy for it.

She taught Steve how to pry up the floorboards so he could keep secrets things. Showed him places you could hide in the roof space. Taught him how to pick locks and (theoretically) how to break an alpha’s nose. Traded some of his useless gifts for books she’d stolen from the beta library and taught him other useful things - like that everyone thought they were smarter than omegas (Steve had suspected that already), but also how to use it against them.

For Steve’s 15th birthday, she lent him an erotic magazine that she’d found in the guards room (nobody could own stuff like that, it was too important that they circulate). Steve learnt more about alphas and what they wanted from that one magazine than he had in the last 5 years of schooling.

* * *

Even if he hadn’t had his first heat yet, puberty had been very generous to Steve. Pale and skinny had given way to golden and lithe in all the ways that made people pay attention. Which is how he found himself modelling for army recruitment poster.

It wasn’t Steve’s first photo-shoot, but it was more adult than anything he’d done before. There were no cute animals or important peoples hands to shake or products to advertise. Just Steve in a weird outfit that was a mash up of an American flag and a romper suit. He might have been confused if it hadn’t seen Nat’s pin-ups.

It should have been over after the first couple of shots. Steve was a pro. After the ringlets debacle he’d made a point to understand the angles and lighting to get it over with as soon as possible. But the alpha photographer kept insisting Steve sit with his legs ‘just a little’ open. _Not a chance_. Steve knit his eyebrows together and gave his best pouty, clueless frown when the instruction was repeated for the fifth time.

The matron cleared her throat meaningfully when the alpha made a move toward Steve to reposition him. She was average sized for a beta and couldn’t put up much resistance, but she also had the duress alarm they used whenever an alpha was on site. “Just spread your damn legs!” He commanded Steve with a growl.

Steve couldn’t think clearly through the shock of being commanded. He had that terrible song they made him learn in kinder in his head.

_We say thank you_

_We say please_

_Keep legs together at the knees_

_We never tease_

_We never fuss_

_We listen as they talk to us_

_Do as they say_

_And never tell_

_And alpha will reward us well_

“Like this, Sir?” Steve spread his knees and palmed at his pants obscenely, in an imitation of one of Nat’s pinups. Clearly it was exactly what the alpha had wanted because camera forgotten he was suddenly in Steve’s personal space pulling at his clothes and the matron was screaming.

* * *

“It’s not really fair you got in trouble.” Nat stamped her foot.

“Why not? I knew what I was doing.” Hmpfed Steve. “Plus what difference does it make? I’m just confined to my room, I’m not usually allowed to go anywhere anyway.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “It's the principle of the thing. They just don’t want anyone to see the bites.” They could hide most of the marks under his clothes but there were a couple on his hands that would be difficult to explain until they healed. “It’d be too weird if you just started wearing gloves suddenly. Most alpha are super insecure like that, they always think you’re hiding stuff. There’s one girl in Block C and her alpha makes her strip to her smalls so he can check her for marks every time he visits.” She picked through one of the fruit baskets that Steve had received, on the grounds he was currently ‘sick’.

“I could have taken him. I just didn’t expect him to jump me like that was all.” Grumbled Steve. He’d missed his chance to test the nose-breaker. Because he’d paused when that strange alphas teeth had sunk into his thigh - it had felt so good and so right.

“Jeez Steve, you have no idea what you look like at all, do you?” Chided Nat filling up her shoulder bag with loot. Steve didn’t mind, he didn’t even know half the senders and Nat knew to leave the plums for Buck. “What were you even thinking? I mean, it was a command, so you had to do something, but you could have done just enough to get him off your case. You got to protect yourself better.”

“He was trying to take a picture of my underpants Nat. I just thought that if it went too far the matron would stop it.” Steve wrung his hands. “…It did technically work.”

“Steve! 11 bite marks isn't a technicality! That one on your thigh might even scar! Your value will go down!”

“I don’t care.” Steve sulked.

“You should! Alpha get angry when they see the marks of others. Stark might reject you. You want to risk it?"

Steve sniffed indignantly. “Howard and I have an arrangement. He doesn’t want me that way so he wont care.”

“You’re wrong Steve. You’re barely cycling and that alpha jumped you. He had an arrangement to just take photographs. What, do you think Stark is immune? All alphas want us. When the time comes, they don't care what we want.”

Nat was a year younger than him physically but knew so much. The girls took the same lessons as the boys, but they were also able to pass information amongst themselves. Nat was never wrong. 

“You can’t wear shorts anymore. You should only wear slacks. Or better yet sweat pants. It’ll be easier that way to hide it.”

“Hide what?”

“You, Stupid.” She stated matter of-factly. “Your legs. And the stuff that comes out.” She patted the her backside. “You’re pretty safe around betas, but alphas... they can smell it. You'll need to stuff some toilet paper in your pants and change it often, always flush it, never just leave it in the bin, use something strong smelling to hide the scent. Sometimes if one of the girls gets an early heat, but she’s too young for an alpha, we hide it for a couple cycles. You know they won’t believe it forever, but at least Bucky wont be alone in the meantime.”

Bucky wasn’t like Steve or Nat, who had no memory of their parents. Both had been taken by the military early. Ostensibly for their own good. So three years later when Mrs. Barnes had given birth she didn’t tell anyone it was a boy and simply started raising her omega ‘daughter’. Bucky had been 6 years old and had two younger sisters before a bout of appendicitis had required surgery and he’d been 'discovered'. 

Omegas didn't generally like being alone. They were highly social and subject to depression when being isolated too long. Because Bucky had had a real family, he wasn't as tough like Steve. He'd cried a lot at first. Now Bucky just had Steve and didn't even know Steve was a traitor, because he‘d been so glad when they bought Bucky in because it meant he wouldn’t have to be alone in the boys dorm anymore. Steve owed it to him to stay as long as he could.

* * *

The balance of power had inevitably shifted.

Steve had had an unspoken arrangement with Howard. Howard hadn’t been interested in mating and Steve was too young. A perfect combination where they could just sit in the same room and ignore each other. Steve got immunity from other alphas, and Howard got a high profile omega and immunity from the media claiming he was unstable for not having mated yet. Steve read about Howards women in the papers sometimes, but he didn't really care. It was part of their arrangement. But now Steve had failed to meet his criteria. He wasn't too young anymore. Ideally Howard wouldn't notice and things could carry on. Steve figured two or three years would be enough.

It had taken 10 days for the bites to heal over, so Howard hadn’t seen him for nearly three weeks. As Nat had predicted, he had cycled his first heat in that time, and it was a blessing that visitors had been banned. It gave Steve plenty of time to practice Nat’s tricks.

Cycling did strange things to Steve. Certain smells were overpowering. He couldn’t stand wearing shoes. His lips always felt dry. He was hungry half the time and cold the other half. Weirdly, he started to taste oddly specific things when he heard certain sounds. Nat had said she knew a girl that said looking at anything red made her taste quinine since her first heat and Steve was just thankful it didn’t affect him that way. He liked red.

He sat in his normal place, acting as casual as possible. Some omegas became great actors because of their empathy but Steve wasn't one of them (the fact he was also tone deaf was the only reason that his public exposure was largely limited to photography). It was enough however because Howard was drunk as usual. Nobody had said anything after the initial greetings were exchanged and that was good. That was what he wanted. Stane had asked if he was feeling better and Steve had rather impolitely ignored him (just like he usually did, it was important to be consistent when acting normal). 

After 7 minutes he couldn’t stand his shoes anymore and slipped them off with a huff, folding his feet under himself. He scribbled in his sketchbook for a while. Howard wasn’t paying any attention to him. Which was normal. Which was good. Steve huffed to himself again. Glanced at the clock. It had only been a couple more minutes. Did heats affect time perception? He gave up trying to draw and slumped bonelessly onto the armrest of the couch with an exaggerated sigh.

Howard still hadn’t noticed anything. Good.

Steve fidgeted with his bracelet. It looked expensive. He liked it because it was sparkly but he hated it because Stane had put it on his wrist. Howard hadn’t liked Stane putting that bracelet on Steve, even as Stane explained that it was a special bracelet, designed to Howard’s exact specifications by some famous jeweler Steve had never heard of. Steve turned it this way and that watching the gems sparkle.

It got boring really quickly.

Steve squirmed on the couch. His hands were cold. He rubbed them together hoping the friction would be enough to warm them up before pressing them between his thighs. It helped a bit. He wondered if Howard’s thighs were warmer. Howard was busy with his newspaper. He probably wouldn’t even notice if Steve stuck his hands there to check. That was normal. Normal was good. He should do it and see.

Steve shuffled a little closer before pulling back in shock at his own line of thought. He went back to randomly scribbling in the sketchbook to keep his traitorous hands busy. Somehow he forgot and started eating the snacks the matron always left out for the visitors. Some type of cookie. They weren’t inedible. He didn’t usually eat at these things because it was considered rude, but he figured he deserved it since the fucking clock was obviously not working right. He had definitely been here more than 15 minutes.

Steve growled at the plate. Howard didn’t notice. Good. He looked back to the mess on the sketchpad. Right at the edge was a tiny circle of light. Steve swiped at it and it flicked away. Steve’s eyes flicked to Howard, but Howard hadn’t noticed. He tracked it as it moved across the coffee table, sometimes stopping for a minute to draw Steve’s attention to different things. A scrap of cookie, a tiny string of cotton, the box the bracelet had come in, Howards shoe lace where he had his feet up on the coffee table (bad manners!). It was fascinating and Steve was enthralled watching it explore, trying to figure out if there was a connection between the seemingly random objects it stopped to hover over like the worlds most eccentric bumble bee.

Steve blinked and it was gone. He rubbed at his eyes wondering if he had imagined it. He scanned the room methodically and found it a couple of minutes later resting on his hip. Steve stayed very still, afraid it would run away again, eyes watering but determined not to blink. It started to skitter along the waistband of his pants and down toward his crotch. Steve grabbed for it with both hands.

This time Howard did notice. Possibly because of the ridiculous noise Steve made. Like a groan of pain but that made no sense because it hadn’t hurt. Howard just looked surprised, but once it was clear nothing was wrong went back to his paper. Stane was laughing. It wasn’t a nice laugh. Nice sounding laughs tasted like condensed milk, this tasted like that time Steve had vomited curdled blood, bitter and metallic. Steve glared at him and that’s when he realized he’d been chasing a jack-a-dandy cast by Stane’s watch.

Steve didn’t want Stane’s attention. Affronted he sat up straight with the proper posture. Knees together. Ankles crossed. Stane laughed again. Steve wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Somehow. Somehow he made it through the hour. Howard had spoken with the matron after and Steve heard him tell her he had been acting strangely. Stane hadn’t left with him so Steve couldn’t even swipe the newspaper, which made him even crankier. If he was lucky Howard thought he was still sick. He better get used to it, because apparently now that he had gone through a heat he was just stupid, horny, Steve, desperate for attention and unable to concentrate on anything for more than 5 minutes when there was an alpha in the room.

This was his life now. All he wanted to do was crawl into Howards lap and be comforted and he hated himself for it. He pressed his face into the armrest to muffle another pathetic whimper. For all of his plans to protect Bucky, if Howard had fucked him and marked him today he would have been ecstatic right now, instead Howard just thought he was still sick. 

“Welcome to adulthood kid.” Murmured Stane breathing hotly on Steve’s neck. Too close! Too close! Stane knows! Steve curled up tightly, instinctively covering his neck. Stane gave his bitter laugh again, giving Steve’s backside a brutal pinch. “We’re going to have so much fun, you and I.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Hello Steven. I’m Mrs. Wells. But please, my friends just call me Peggy.”

Steve looked at her briefly. It wasn’t considered polite to stare. But she was also clearly an omega. Catching Steve’s shy glances she smirked a little. “Do you like my bracelet? I’ll give it to you.”

The boy’s eyes darted up to hers in challenge. Peggy was usually an excellent judge of character, so it wasn’t often Peggy was forced to reassess someone so quickly. She withdrew her hand quickly with the uncanny impression Steve might bite it if she didn’t.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She covered quickly. The boy looked exactly as his profile picture depicted she had expected except for the absolute lack of a smile on his face.

“Are we friends, Mrs. Wells?” He asked pensively. It was a nice bracelet. He glanced through his lashes at it, the way Nat had taught him to so he wouldn’t get dazzled like a toddler that had never seen tinsel before. Simple but well wrought. Symmetrical.

“I… was hoping we could be.” Stammered Peggy. “I’m from the Bugle?” She named the newspaper hopefully. “I was sent to interview you.”

“I know. You’re Margaret Elizabeth Wells. Age 29. You’ve published articles for the Omega section of the Bugle since March.” The O-News was a fairly new addition to the Bugle. A weekly pull out of stories considered suitable for an Omega’s sensibilities, for the discerning Alpha who wanted to say he was progressive, and of course for the lucrative advertisement of O-related products.

“Oh… you’ve read some of my works.” Stated Peggy, feeling she had somehow become the interrogatee. “Did you enjoy them?”

“Well…” paused Steve, “they’re very… grammatically sound.”

“You’re right. They’re all absolute garbage.” Laughed Peggy with delight. To date, ‘Which breed of cat best suits your lifestyle?’ was as close as she’d ever come to a Pulitzer. “That’s all they let _us_ print.”

“At least having the articles acknowledges O’s can be taught to read.” Sighed Steve, rubbing at his nose bridge in exasperation. “I’m sorry. I was rude to you.” Peggy raised an eyebrow in question. Steve darted an eye to make sure the door was closed. He wasn’t allowed to talk about the Alpha’s. But the matron hadn’t bothered to stay since it was another Omega. Therefore the normal rules mustn’t apply to Omegas. It was a completely plausible logic leap. “They made me sit with seven different Alpha. Seven! They all stank! I have a headache.” He flopped dramatically into the couch.

“Steven…”

“Steve. Just Steve.” He mumbled from the cushions.

“Steve, that’s preposterous! To make an unmated Omega meet so many potentials in a week...” Steve snorted. “Just… today? No… the legal limit is three!” She fished a small brown bottle of vanilla from her purse and passed it to him. He took it gratefully and sniffing deeply with a sigh.

Steve didn’t bother arguing. Neither did Peggy. They both new better.

“The puzzles. Bucky likes those.” He admitted. Most Omega loved logic and math problems. Peggy had only managed to get where she was today (granted it was writing fluff) on recognition of her skills in cryptography, and ability to create puzzles.

“Of course.” She adjusted her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, preening a little.

“It would be nice if you put in some harder ones sometimes, like you do in the main paper.”

“Oh! I don’t do the main puzzles! They have an alpha enigmatologist that makes those.” Peggy laughed nervously.

“No. They don’t.” Smirked Steve. “Your style is very distinctive. Even with the pseudonym its obvious.”

“Yes. Well. The Bugle pays alpha Carter quite a bit more than they pay omega Wells for the same job, so lets keep that between us, thank you very much.

When Peggy looked flustered Steve added, “don’t worry, who would I even tell? I’m not even supposed to read the main paper.” Steve rolled his eyes meaningfully. “Us Omegas gotta look out for each other.”

Peggy had 20 minutes. She hated to think that was because Steve probably had other sittings today, but it was only 2pm and the likelihood was high.

“Ask your questions Peggy.” Prompted Steve without looking up, face still buried in a (now) vanilla infused cushion.

“Right. Of course. What’s your favorite…” Started Peggy, pulling out the list of questions.

“Really?” Steve’s head darted up from the pillow. “We’re doing this?” He sighed. “Pink. Cats. 5’2”. Dancing. Chocolate. A crystal chandelier.”

“No, I prefer blue and dogs, I’m 5’4”, I have zero coordination, chocolate gives me indigestion and a flying car. But those aren’t the official answers and they won’t let you publish them.” Peggy genuinely laughed this time. Steve was infamous for refusing to dance in public, claiming he was shy or in poor health.

“Do you like it here? At the compound?”

“The compound makes sure I have everything I need and that I’m safe.”

“Really?”

“Official answers Peggy. I love my life. I’m so happy. So many kind and handsome alpha come to visit me everyday. I can’t wait for my first heat. It’s so exciting!” Steve spat on the ground. Spitting was definitely on the ‘do not’ list, and was the most disgusting thing Steve knew how to do (apart from soiling his pants, but he hadn’t resorted to that since he was nine).

“Most omega get their first heat by the time they’re 14. At 16 some people would say you’re quite old to have not had your first heat.” Remarked Peggy.

“Some people are military recruiters.” Steve didn’t bother to explain but stretched languorously on the couch to prove his point. Even through the loose clothing it was obviously not the body of a child. “I wish I was an Alpha so I could join the Navy!” He said cheekily.

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t believe for a second the compound believed he hadn’t hit puberty – but it was in his benefit to follow through with the charade too. He curled up again, looking innocent. “Officially everyone matures in their own time, and it’s very, very rude of some people to bring it up!”

“What is the best gift an Alpha has ever given you?” Peggy looked apologetic at having to ask the ridiculous question.

“A severed body part from one of my enemies.” Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t elaborate. “Officially a diamond bracelet. Apparently it has the highest quality diamonds and is my favorite thing ever. I could stare at it for hours.” The fact Steve hadn’t seen the bracelet since the day the matron took it away was irrelevant. 

“From Howard Stark? He seems to be a favorite of yours. Care to make a comment?”

“No worse than most. Usually drunk.” Shrugged Steve breaking eye contact, which left Peggy wondering. The matron chose that moment to return, tapping her watch meaningfully. “Howard Stark is an amazing alpha, so clever! Did you know he’s a genius engineer, a pilot and can speak 6 different languages? Any omega would be lucky to be bonded to him!” He looked at Peggy with wide eyes and his hands clasped together earnestly. Making sure the matron would not hear he hissed meaningfully, “if you print that I will find you and I will kill you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i know the timeline is pretty messed up, but marvel did that first so *shrug* withhold disbelief and roll with it. also at first i was all ewww A/B/O (and i totally blame those adds for werewolf manga that pop up in the weirdest places) but the idea of recreating the human race on a fundamental level and fitting it to the marvel universe was intriguing. Now I'm painted into a corner with how to make Steve get over his trauma and just let Tony bond him... without it being insultingly... 'and they lived happily ever after' - well hand to mouth omnomnom :) leave a comment


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